


Two Times Leonard Snart Fell Asleep on His Boyfriend

by Lady Divine Coldflash (fhartz91)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boyfriends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Romance, chapter five is rated M, jealous!Barry, jealous!Len, protective!Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine%20Coldflash
Summary: When Leonard Snart is emotionally exhausted, he turns to his boyfriend for comfort...and a nap.





	1. Exhaustion

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is based off a prompt I got on Tumblr: "Len and Barry are boyfriends. Len is Captain Cold, Barry is the Flash, and they're trying to make it work. And because it's difficult, sometimes Len just needs to sleep on Barry." This is what I came up with. I hope you guys like it. <3

“Whaddya doin’?” Len asks, pulling up behind Barry where he’s sitting at his drafting table, sketching a blueprint at phenomenal speed, stopping every few seconds or so in between to double check a measurement or readjust an angle.

“Oh, uh…” Barry stammers when Len wraps his arms around his torso and rests his chin on Barry’s shoulder. “I’m helping Cisco with the design for a new piece of tech that…technically you’re not supposed to be seeing.”

“Why not?” Len mutters against Barry’s neck. He’s not trying to kiss him, not really trying to obstruct him from his work. He’s just _there_ , clinging on to Barry like a sponge.

“Because, for all intents and purposes, you’re still kind of…you know…a bad guy.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not looking.” The soft murmur of Len’s voice makes it obvious that he’s drifting off to sleep. Falling asleep, standing behind Barry, latched on to him like a sloth.

Barry doesn’t move. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place. If Len insists on being Captain Cold, then he really shouldn’t be privy to the things that Barry is working on for Team Flash. Then again, Len promised when they started dating that he wouldn’t take advantage. He’s an opportunist, there’s no denying that, but not where Barry is concerned. And even though Barry actually has more reasons to distrust him than to trust him, the fact remains – Barry loves him.

And when it comes to Len, Barry leads with his heart.

“Do you mind?” Len asks, starting to sound farther and farther away.

Barry sighs. This isn’t the ideal working condition. If he doesn’t want to jar Len, he’s going to have to slow down, and he promised Cisco he’d have this sketch done by tonight. On the other hand, it’s not very often that Len and Barry get time like this together, away from Barry’s superhero-ing (as Len calls it) and Len’s…work.

“No,” Barry says, tilting his head to kiss a quietly snoring Len on the chin. “I don’t mind.”

***

“I can’t believe…are you intentionally trying to blow this for us, or are you really just that stupid!?”

Barry hears the one-sided argument brewing in the hallway, becoming a loud rumble as it approaches the door. From the frequency of it (which Barry can determine and calculate in his head), Barry has half a minute to go before Len arrives – enough time to finish the page he’s reading.

“No, I don’t want to hear your excuses! I want to know how you’re going to _fix this_!”

Len storms into the apartment, not stopping his bellowing the way he normally would when he sees Barry sitting on the sofa.

“Just _fix it_!” Len yells, slamming the door, taking the time, regardless of how furious he is, to throw shut the many locks and secure the two chains. “Don’t tell me about it! _Do it_!”

Len hangs up his phone and tosses it away. Where it lands, Barry has no idea. They’ll find it later.

“Bad day?” Barry asks calmly as Len barrels towards him.

“Yup,” Len snaps, stripping off his gun and dropping it on a nearby recliner. Barry used to cringe when Len did that, worried that the thing might misfire and freeze something unintentionally. But late one night, Barry snuck Cisco into the apartment to secretly fix that, so it’s no longer an issue.

“Is there something I should know about?” Barry watches Len peel off his shirt and drop it on the floor, then start on the laces to his boots.

“Nope.” Barefoot and shirtless, Len climbs onto the sofa between Barry’s legs, and Barry sets his book aside. But where Barry assumes Len is going to attack his lips, maybe tear off his clothes, the man crawls beneath Barry’s S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt instead.

Barry raises an unseen brow at his boyfriend. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” Len grumbles, burrowing until his cheek rests against Barry’s chest over his heart. He shifts his legs until they’re comfortable and his body so he’s not crushing anything important. When he’s situated to his satisfaction, Barry feels Len sigh, that one exasperated breath soaking into Barry’s skin. Len goes completely still, arms snaked around Barry’s waist, fast asleep in an instant.

Barry stares at the lump huddled beneath his sweatshirt that is his boyfriend, Leonard Snart. The apartment is silent again except for the signature snuffle of Len’s snoring, and the _tick-tick-tick_ of Barry’s mother’s clock on the kitchen wall.

Barry retrieves his book and opens it back up, moving on to the next page. “Alright then,” he whispers with a twitchy half-smile, and picks up where he left off.


	2. Hot Under the Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets jealous when he discovers some of the ways in which Len had to get information from people - women especially - during his missions on the Waverider, and Len tries to reassure his boyfriend that he's his one and only.
> 
> ***The first installment was so cute that I decided to make this sort of a series of times when Len and Barry fell asleep together in different situations.

“Barry! Barry, slow up! Fuck, Barry! Barry, _stop_!” Len bellows, racing out of a packed Saints and Sinners after his irate boyfriend. Even though Len is jogging, Barry is … well, Barry is _The Flash_. Staying five steps ahead is something Barry can do with no effort. The fact that he hasn’t completely taken off in a streak of red and yellow lightning yet, even though he can leave Len effectively in the dust in a heartbeat, gives Len encouragement that he can win Barry back. “Barry … what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving your sorry ass,” Barry shouts in response without turning around or slowing down. Barry thought he could escape – walk out the back door of the bar while everyone was yucking it up inside, and then, when he was in the dark of the parking lot, put on a burst of speed and be back at his apartment before anyone realized he was gone. But Len, who had been sitting next to Barry, watching him like a frickin’ hawk the entire time, figured it out the second Barry bypassed the bathrooms and zipped out through the kitchen without the staff seeing him.

“I can see that. _Why_ are you leaving’s the question? What’s got your goat?”

“You know _what_.”

“I know _what_ what?” Len shuffles to a stop even though he knows he might lose his chance if Barry decides to take off running. Realizing _exactly_ what Barry is mad about, he drops his head back and laughs in disbelief. “Oh, God! Barry! You’re not going to get angry about _that_ , are you?”

“I’m not angry,” Barry says, finally slowing down. “I’m …”

“… jealous,” Len finishes. He’s almost proud of the fact, and that steams Barry even more.

They were having a great evening. The crew of the Waverider were so happy to be back, and Barry was thrilled to have Len home again. Alcohol was flowing, with everyone but Barry and Len getting their buzz on (Len normally abstains with Barry around since it doesn’t seem right that Barry can’t get drunk, too). At some point, the conversation turned to the many, _many_ people that Len had to sweet talk information out of, apparently sometimes _more_ than talk, and Barry got a little hot under the collar.

“I am not jealous,” Barry lies, contemplating leaving before the discussion circles back around.

“Good,” Len says, sauntering up to his boyfriend and slipping his hands into Barry’s back pockets, “because there’s nothing to be jealous of. It’s all part of the job, babe,” he explains without remorse. “It didn’t mean anything. I was just … pumpin’ people for information.”

“Yeah? What else were you _pumping_ them for, huh?” Barry scoffs, fighting off the urge to melt against Len’s body regardless of how ticked off he is. It’s been a while since they’ve seen one another. This shouldn’t be a time for anger. Only ... the people that Ray and Rip and Sara were joking about – those nameless, faceless, unimportant people - got to spend time with his boyfriend that Barry didn’t get to have, and everyone is treating it like it’s no big deal. Worse, like it’s a joke.

It’s not a joke to Barry.

“What about _you_?” Len deflects in an attempt to tease the ire out of him. “Do you think I’m getting jealous knowing that you’re back here in 2016 racing after strange guys in your red leather suit? Wasn’t it Cisco who said that one of them even mentioned it was his _biggest fantasy_?”

Cisco – he seemed to be the only person who, even tipsy, could tell how much this subject bothered Barry. Using the faulty common sense that comes with inebriation, he slurred that piece of information out there thinking, Barry guesses, that that would put him and Len on an even playing field.

It didn’t. Instead it became fodder for the laugh-fest that ensued.

Len smirks when he repeats it, so Barry knows he’s not seriously upset.

“You’re being ridiculous _,”_ Barry spits. “And what does it matter since you obviously don’t seem to care.”

“Hey, I care.” Len wraps his arms around Barry’s waist, trying to get his boyfriend to hug him back. “At least I wasn’t kissing any other _guys_ ,” he points out, hoping that’ll ease the burn.

It doesn’t.

“Come on, Barry,” Len whispers when he gets no response. “You know you’re my one and only.”

Barry huffs, but he starts to relax. Just a hair. Not so that Len can feel it. But Barry can’t really help himself. Len feels so warm, and underneath the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke from the bar, he smells _so_ good… “Am I really?”

“Of course you are.” Len places kisses at the hollow of Barry’s neck. “You know you are. And besides,” he chuckles darkly, knowing his next comment will probably dig a deeper hole for himself, “I left all those rando chicks in different time lines. When am I ever gonna see them again?”

Barry rolls his eyes. That’s his Len. Just when he finds a way to break down Barry’s walls, he opens his mouth and builds one up again. “Wow, that’s … that’s really … romantic.”

“I’m just tryin’ to get you to laugh.”

“I’ll laugh when you say something funny.”

“I’m funnier in private,” Len mentions, suggestively sliding a leg between Barry’s. “Do we have to talk about this here?”

“No,” Barry says, peeved that Len is trying to solve this problem with sex instead of actual conversation. “Of course not. Let me take us someplace more _private_.”

Lightning crackles around their heads. A whooshing noise dampens the noises of the street and the bar. A swoop of motion sickness swirls in Len’s stomach. It comes together in one surge of sound and motion, and when they stop, Len is standing inside a small, padded cell, with Barry standing outside, arms folded.

Len sighs, raising a fist to knock on the impregnable glass. “Mature. _Real_ mature.”

“ _You_ wanted to go someplace private,” Barry snipes. “The pipeline is about as private as it gets.”

“Not with the amount of security cameras you guys have in this place. But hows about we go with choice number two? Provided it’s not Iron Heights, that is,” Len adds, just in case Barry is pissed enough at Len to actually drop him off at a prison other than S.T.A.R. Labs’ meta-human zoo.

Barry actually takes a second to think it over, eyes shifting to look at the ceiling as he swipes through his options, and regardless of the fact that Len is at Barry’s mercy, he has the balls to laugh.

“Fine,” Barry groans. Another crackle of lightning, another deafening whoosh, and another sickening swoop later, they’re standing in the living room of their apartment. “Here. We’re home,” Barry says, dropping Len on the sofa. “Now what?”

Len lands on his ass, highly unamused, but he has the sense and the newfound sensitivity to understand that that’s not important. His _pride_ isn’t important.

His _boyfriend_ is.

“Barry, do you know what it’s like on the Waverider?” Len stands slowly, searching for that happy medium between sincere and seductive that will smooth things over. “Being away from _you_? It’s miserable and cold … and it’s lonely. I know I have the crew, and we’re always doing _something_ , but it’s also a lot like being in solitary - just you and your thoughts for hours on end. And that’s something I’ve never stood very well. You know that.”

Len takes Barry’s hand. Len’s skin is warm like the rest of him and slightly calloused on the palm. It’s familiar and comforting, and the single touch that Barry has been longing for for months. But when Barry thinks of the women who’ve felt it before him, who’ve had his lips on theirs when Barry hasn’t even had his first taste yet, he can’t rectify the heat bleeding up his arm with the cold in his chest.

“And that gives you permission to flirt and make-out with anyone you want?”

“I may have flirted,” Len counters, pulling Barry towards him but continuing on through the living room to the bedroom, “I may have _kissed_ … but I never made-out with anyone, Barry. What do you think? I _chose_ those women to fool around with in the middle of a mission because I couldn’t care less about you? I only did what I _had_ to do. If you want to be pissed at someone, be pissed at _Rip_. He put us in those situations. He’s the one that didn’t exactly give us a choice.”

Barry goes with Len even though he doesn’t feel that Len is sorry enough. But Len is right about Rip. Barry was pissed at Rip already for lying, for putting himself, his wants, and his needs ahead of the safety of his crew, ahead of _Barry’s_ boyfriend. The Waverider team can find a way to speak highly of Rip all they want.

But Barry isn’t as forgiving.

“And you couldn’t think of _any_ other way around it?”

Len has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Barry is superhero, and an honest to God tough guy besides, but tough in the way small dogs are tough. A territorial beast. Yeah, they can bite, they can even break skin, but it’s hard to mind all of that considering how adorable they are. “Are you telling me that _you_ , The Flash, protector of Central City, would have rather I beat up a woman just so I wouldn’t part with one, meaningless kiss?”

“It sounded to me like more than _one_ kiss.” Len begins to undress. Barry does not object. “And definitely more than one woman.”

“Yeah, but … there’s only one Barry Allen,” Len says, tugging up Barry’s t-shirt, sliding sure fingertips over Barry’s abs, outlining the smooth skin in between defined ridges.

“You’re not having sex with me, Snart,” Barry remarks, angrily conceding to Len pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.

“I’m not trying to have sex with you” - Len buries his head into the crook of Barry’s neck - “I just … I need to be close to you.” Len backs Barry up to the bed and gently pushes him down on it. “Please … let me be close to you.”

Barry knew from the second he heard Len’s footsteps follow him out of the bar that this was where this argument was headed.

“Fine.” Barry gives in with far less fire and far less venom. He toes off his sneakers while Len yanks off his boots, and climbs under the covers. Len is right – frustratingly, obnoxiously right. What he did on the Waverider was part of his job. Len and Barry are in a committed relationship, one that they worked hard for, against odds and the disapproval of friends and family members. It didn’t matter what Len did in the name of protecting Earth as long as Len came home to him.

But maybe Len can remind his cohorts that Barry doesn’t necessarily need to know so much about it.

Len twines himself around Barry’s body, legs around legs and arms under arms until he has Barry locked in a maneuver closer to a wrestling pin than a hug. Barry tries to remain unaffected, but it gets difficult when Len snuggles into the base of his neck and starts laying a trail of sleepy kisses there.

“Goodnight, Len,” Barry says, because he has to say _something_. He can’t go to bed mad _and_ quiet. He doesn’t want Len to think he’s ignoring him.

Barry may be upset, but he won’t stay that way forever.

“How much longer are you going to be angry with me, Barry?” Len asks, pulling closer until the two of them nearly occupy the same dimensional space.

“What time is it now?” Barry murmurs.

Len peeks over Barry’s head at the clock on the dresser. “1:15 in the morning.”

Barry closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath and feels himself relax, giving in to sleep - not because it’s been a long day, which it has, and not because he’s exhausted, which he is. It’s for the most infuriating reason of them all.

He’s back in his boyfriend’s arms. He hasn’t slept comfortably a single night since Len’s been gone. But now, even though he’s miffed, he feels like he can finally get a good night’s sleep. “For at least … a few more hours.”


	3. When Heroes Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Barry gets hit by a mysterious super weapon that renders him unconscious and his super healing powers null-and-void, Len storms into S.T.A.R. Labs looking for answers as to how Team Flash could let this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of injuries and bruises. 
> 
> I see this as kind of taking place towards the beginning of their relationship, when Len still butts heads with Barry's friends because they don't accept him. I also kind of feel like Len would have been able to see Harrison Wells for what he was to a degree if he cared enough about Barry's well-being and spent any time around him. And lastly, this diverts from the formula of the series a little bit since Len doesn't technically fall asleep with Barry in this one, but I figure it's close enough xD

“Where is he?” Len roars, storming into S.T.A.R. Labs with his cold gun powered up and raised.

“Snart!” Caitlin yelps, chasing after him down the corridor that leads to the heart of the labs’ command center. “You’re not allowed to be here!” Not that that’s ever stopped him. Even before he and Barry became an official ‘couple’ (a thought that still fills her with a mixture of confusion, anger, and disgust, regardless of how happy Len seems to make Barry), the second Leonard Snart found S.T.A.R. Labs’ location, he began barging in uninvited as if he owned the place.

“I said _where is he_!?”

“Mr. Snart” – Harrison Wells emerges from one of the tangential labs and joins the pursuit – “I know that you and Barry have a … relationship, but that does not give you permission to waltz in here any time you want.”

“You know, I ain’t hearin’ what I wanna hear, so I’ll tell you what … Dr. Snow …” He turns on Caitlin, and she skids to a halt so suddenly she almost snaps a heel “… if you don’t tell me where Barry is on the count of three, I’m gonna shoot someone, and you get to decide who.” He brings his gun down and aims squarely at Dr. Wells’ chest. Caitlin gasps. Dr. Wells appears unimpressed. “I’m leaning towards wheels here because, frankly, something about you has never quite sat right with me.”

“No. Don’t. Don’t shoot him,” Caitlin says in a calm voice while taking a shaky step into the line of fire. “I’ll take you to him.”

“There we go.” Len shoulders his weapon as Caitlin takes the lead. “See what happens when we all play nice? I get what I want, and no one gets hurt.”

Dr. Wells chuckles humorously as he falls in place behind Snart following Caitlin as she takes them deeper into S.T.A.R. Labs, into an area that Len can’t recall ever seeing before. It looks disturbingly like the I.C.U. at St. Andrews, the brown stone corridor of S.T.A.R. Labs transitioning suddenly into stark white and sterile _everything_ – walls, floor, even the ceiling. This new hall leads to a single room at the end where, through the bulletproof glass window to the right of the door, Len can already see several people gathered.

Iris, Joe, and Cisco. _Of course_ , Len thinks. Along with Dr. Snow and Dr. Wells, that would make the only five people in Barry’s life that “matter” … according to them.

As they approach, Len gets a closer look inside and notices nothing on the walls - no TV, no flat-screen panels. Len would think they could find a way to link Barry’s father in somehow, seeing as his son might be dying and all, but apparently he doesn’t matter, either.

Well, Len will be damned if he’s expected to stay outside, peeking in through the window like a stray fucking dog.

He sidesteps Caitlin and opens the door before anyone can stop him.

“Mr. Snart,” he hears Dr. Wells start as he proceeds to weed past a sullen Cisco and a weepy Iris until he’s standing at the foot of Barry’s bed, dead and center. But despite his act of dominance, what Len sees in front of him renders him useless.

He’s never seen Barry Allen look so weak before; so helpless. He’s covered in bruises – black eyes, scratches down both cheeks, scrapes up and down his jaw, three layers of road rash at least on the bridge of his nose, and a gash over his left eye that needed two rows of stitches. His right arm is in a cast. Len can see his left leg in a cast as well, and his left wrist in a brace. He has tubes and wires coming in and out of him, snaking underneath the blanket, pumping in clear fluids and pulling out a viscous, green, glowing liquid that’s being collected into a biohazard bag hanging off the metal frame of the bed. All in all, Barry looks like someone tossed him off a rooftop and caught him in a barbed wire net … but how can he? How can he be this battered? Len has seen Barry take a hit. Hell, Len himself has shot Barry – _twice_. But Barry always recovers quick-style. It’s part of what his body does. It heals itself insanely fast. So how can he be laying here in this bed, so damaged?

“What happened to him?” Len asks, beyond pissed that no one on the Flash “super team” gave Len the heads up. They all have the number to his burner phone, even Detective West, which Len thought showed a tremendous amount of faith on his part - a faith that has yet to be reciprocated. But Len got his information from his sister Lisa, and as far as Len is concerned, that’s as good to him as having seen it himself.

“He was shot,” Caitlin says, “by some kind of repeater weapon that we’ve never seen before.”

“Repeater weapon?” Len says, moving to Barry’s right side, which seems to be the least destroyed.

“He took the blast,” Cisco explains, “then the weapon seemed to rewind time and hit him again.”

“And how many hits did he take?” Len asks between teeth slowly being ground into powder. He reaches for Barry’s hand, but only has the heart to gently brush the fingertips.

“We … we don’t know,” Cisco admits.

“Well, why isn’t he recovering? What did that weapon do to him!?”

“We don’t know that either.”

“What _do_ you know?”

“We … we actually don’t know much of anything,” Cisco says, begging for that to be okay even though he knows it’s not the answer Len wants. “We’ve been reviewing footage of the attack, but we …”

“What do you mean _reviewing footage_?” Frustrated, Len looks to the group in the room for a clear-cut answer. “Weren’t you watching him? Aren’t you guys supposed to have his back?”

“There was some kind of electrical disturbance,” Caitlin says, “and we …”

“We kind of … lost track of him,” Cisco finishes, jumping on the grenade for Caitlin even though he’s certain that if Len doesn’t want to accept that as an answer that _he’s_ the one who’s going to become an icicle either way.

“Yeah?” Len feels himself growing furious, the contempt from dozens of lectures on how Len isn’t good enough for Barry, how he’ll never be good enough, how someday he’s going to get Barry killed bubbling underneath his skin. “And how did _that_ happen, huh? Aren’t you guys his team? You’ve got him wired to the eyeballs – audio, visual, you monitor his heart, his muscles, his brain ... you’re supposed to know exactly where he is and exactly what he’s doing. So how could you let this happen!?”

“He’s a superhero, Snart!” Cisco argues, taking the risk since he figures he’s a dead man if he can’t save Barry anyway. “His job is to protect the people of Central City! Every time he leaves this building, he knows what he’s getting himself into.”

“That’s some convenient horse shit, isn’t it?” Len grumbles. “Putting that responsibility on him? How long has he been doing this for? Six months? Barely a year? Do you think he completely understands what being a superhero _means_?”

“Oh, and you do?” Joe snaps.

“Yeah, I do. I know _exactly_ what it means; that’s why I ain’t one. It means that when the going gets tough, the only person you can rely on is yourself. Because when things are good and you’re saving people’s lives, you’re the king of the world. But you make _one_ tiny mistake, and everyone turns against you.”

“He can rely on us,” Cisco says. “No matter what, _we_ have his best interests at heart.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Ramon, but you _failed_!”

“You being here and fighting with Barry’s team won’t help him,” Dr. Wells says. “If you want to help Barry, _really_ help him, then help us find out what that weapon is and how to get a hold of it.”

Len tilts his head sideways as he considers Dr. Wells. The paralyzed Dr. Wells in his wheelchair, always so calm, cool, and collected, who always seems to know the right thing to say to nudge people in the direction he wants them to go. It’s like a game of chess to him. This whole team, Barry included, are just pieces, with Dr. Wells pushing them around the board.

Well, Len is no one’s pawn, and as soon as he can make it happen, neither will Barry.

Len can see these soft-hearted simpletons believing that what Dr. Wells says is true, that the best thing for Len to do is hit the streets and find that gun. But someone has to look after Barry Allen, someone with the unique ability to protect him, and the only person who can do that, in Len’s opinion, is Len.

“I’ll get the word out to my guys on the streets,” Len offers. “If they know anything about the weapon that hit Barry, then they’ll tell me … but I’m _staying_.”

“You can’t stay,” Dr. Wells says decisively. Len has to hand it to him. That calm, real or fake, doesn’t budge. “We’re not harboring criminals.”

“If you guys get to stay, then I get to stay.”

“We’re his _friends_ ,” Caitlin points out.

“And I’m his _boyfriend_.”

“We _love_ him.”

“And I _don’t_?”

“I don’t know, Snart,” Joe cuts in. “You’re the one with the cold gun …”

“You’ve got a gun, too, you know.”

“… that you _stole …_

“Technically, I’m not the one who stole it. Plus, I wouldn’t even _have_ it if someone in this room didn’t build it to begin with. And why? Why don’t you remind us, Cisco” - Len turns to the man inching farther and farther towards the corner of the room - “why you made this gun in the first place?”

“… and a permanent reservation at Iron Heights,” Joe continues so Cisco doesn’t feel obligated to answer. Of all of the people in that room, Joe doesn’t feel that Cisco is the one who needs to atone for any alleged wrongs. “Why don’t you tell us where you were _before_ you showed up here? And _what_ were you doing? Then tell us how much you _love_ him.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Len growls.

“It means that if you love Barry as much as you say you do, wouldn’t you stop with the criminal shit and join his team? Be on the right side of justice for once instead of constantly making him choose between what’s right and you?”

“Really…” Len chuckles dryly. “You wanna play that game? The one where we decide who’s done Barry worse? I’m the obvious choice, of course. The appointed asshole. But let’s take a look at the way his _best friends_ have treated him over the years.” He whips around and immediately points at Iris. “You. You lived with him most of his life and yet you had no clue how he felt about you? Didn’t have any hint? No idea whatsoever? But that’s not even the worst of it, is it? You share that honor with dear old dad.” He looks at Joe, matching him glare for glare. “You. You raised him. Said you thought of him as a son. The first time you ever got on my case about treating him right and not hurting him, you called him the most honest, most honorable person you ever knew. And yet you couldn’t bring yourself to believe him when he told you, repeatedly, what he saw the night his mother died. It took him being smacked into a coma by a particle accelerator explosion, and _then_ getting super powers, for you to even entertain the idea that he might be telling the truth, didn’t it?”

“Dad?” Iris whispers anxiously, waiting for her father to come up with an objection, then withers when she sees he doesn’t have one.

“And you three” - Len sweeps a hand at Caitlin, Cisco, and Dr. Wells, but with his focus mainly on Dr. Wells - “whose interest in him from the get-go wasn’t helping him survive the lightning strike or teaching him to control his powers, but what he could do to help repair your destroyed reputations.”

“Did he tell you that?” Cisco asks, hurt.

“No. But I’m not blind and I’m not stupid.”

“But you _are_ a criminal,” Caitlin puts in angrily. “A _killer_.”

“Yup,” Len says, unapologetic of that fact. “Barry knows that just as well as you all do. And yet he still lets me into his…”

“Snart…” Joe interjects.

Len smirks at Joe West’s impotent display “…inner sanctum. And he still considers you lot his bestest best buds, so not a one of us in this room is any better than the other … as far as it concerns Barry,” he clarifies to a room full of indignant expressions. “Ergo, by the transitive property of being a jerk to Barry Allen, I have just as much right to stay as the rest of you do.”

“The hell you do …” Joe takes a step forward, but a hand on his arm – Iris’s hand – holds him back.

“No,” she says quietly. “He … he’s right. He’s absolutely right. He gets to stay.”

Len can’t help grinning victoriously, egging them on even though they outnumber him, not only by body count, but technologically. Cisco in particular can come up with something lickety-split that will more than put Len in his place, but Len has guilt holding Cisco back … for now. Len’s true problem is that he wouldn’t actually shoot anyone in this room for Barry’s sake.

Except for, maybe, the guy in the wheelchair, grinning at Len the way Len usually grins at an easy target. Len knows how to play the creepy card, but Harrison Wells might have him beat.

“But, Iris…”

“He’s not going to hurt Barry,” Iris insists, though she’s not as sure about everyone else’s safety, “and besides, we need his help.” Iris locks eyes with the criminal hovering protectively over the man who’s been like a brother to her … a man she only recently realized she might possibly love. “He loves Barry, just as much as the rest of us do. He should get to stay.”

“Smart lady,” Len says since he has no intention of saying something more conventional and less condescending, like _thank you_. “So it’s settled. You guys go about your business, and I’ll lamp in here … keep an eye on _my_ boy.”

“Come on,” Dr. Wells says, not accepting defeat at the hands of Leonard Snart as easily as he makes it seem, “let’s get to work. We have to find that weapon, and if we can’t, we have to figure out a way to help Barry.”

Harrison turns his wheelchair towards the door, which Caitlin rushes forward to open for him.

“Don’t steal anything,” Cisco throws out lamely, still looking stung.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Ramon,” Len tosses back in the hopes of keeping him peeved.

“Just … let us know the second he wakes up,” Iris requests. “Please?”

Len doesn’t say anything. He smiles and nods politely, leaving her blank-faced since even his default smiles are generally unnerving. He doesn’t hold anything against Iris really except for the torch Barry had been carrying for her, the one he held on to even after he and Len hooked up.

Joe exits last, giving Snart one final evil eye before following his daughter out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. Like that’s going to accomplish anything, which both men know it won’t, but it’s a small act of defiance; Joe’s way of saying, “I don’t approve of you being here.”

Len doesn’t care whether Joe does or not. He’s not getting rid of him. Len can always close that door later.

Len waits till the team’s footsteps bleed down the corridor. He knows it doesn’t matter that he and Barry are finally alone. They’re _never_ alone in this place. There are cameras everywhere. He flips off the one he suspects is aimed at them for good measure before turning his attention back to Barry. He’s not going to give himself permission to become emotional like Iris, or even bitter like Caitlin. He has to keep his wits about him, detached from the fury broiling within him if he’s going to help track down the asshole who did this to his boyfriend. He pulls out his cell phone and sends out a mass text to his own team – his sister, his partner, and five other people he mildly trusts, and who he deems capable enough to track this weapon down … and eliminate its owner.

Team Flash might not appreciate that, but they only wanted the weapon. In Len’s mind, the life of the person who shot Barry Allen is already over.

He just needs to deliver the message that when you’re dead, lie down.

Mick Rory and his heat gun should be able to do that quite nicely.

“Don’t worry, Barry,” Len says, fitting himself beside his boyfriend’s body as best he can on the small bed. It’s difficult for him to avoid the wires and tubes. He maneuvers up, over, and then underneath, but eventually he comes up with a way. He does it by lying on his side with one leg over the edge and an arm above his head, but the discomfort doesn’t concern him. As long as he has Barry’s body pressed against his, and a clear line of sight for the door, it doesn’t matter that there’s a cramp forming in his hip, or a sharp pain, like a pulled muscle, blooming up his side. “No one’s gonna hurt you, Barry. Not again. Not now. Not while I’m around.”


	4. Morning Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As something annoying flutters by Len's forehead, trying its best to wake him up, he reflects on why it is it's so easy for him to fall asleep in Barry's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely inspired by the post http://the-prompter.tumblr.com/post/152687484953/prompt-532. Also, I think this story is just going to turn into a series of one-shots about these two dunderheads in bed xD

Len, in general, is an extremely light sleeper.

He can fall asleep practically anywhere, but the slightest shift in air pressure, the tiniest creak of wood, the quietest inhale or exhale of breath will rouse him from unconsciousness to battle ready in a blink. It’s a skill garnered from childhood – his need to stay aware of his mom’s progressively worsening illness, tracking his dad’s location in the house when the man would come home angry and drunk, or to keep an ear out for his sister, since Len couldn’t rely on his dad to calm her nightmares … especially considering the fact that he was one of them.

As an adult, living in his own safe house, Len tends to sleep with one eye open.

The only place he’s ever been able to completely knock out is Barry’s apartment.

It didn’t start out that way. Len felt on his guard spending the night at Barry’s place, not just for himself (being a wanted criminal hooking up behind enemy lines, so to speak), but for Barry. He needed to protect Barry from people who might try to use this relationship against Len. Or from other villains who were under the misapprehension that they and Len were on the same page with regard to eliminating The Flash, who might try to do Len a favor by offing Barry in order to get on his good side.

Lisa calls it Len’s _alpha wolf_ mentality – him trying to protect his _mate_. (God, does he hate that word - _mate_.) She also pulls an obnoxious cutesy face and a cooing noise when she talks about it that makes him want to ground her for a week the way he could years ago, when he was close to twenty and she was still a kid.

But Len has never let Lisa in on the fact that, secretly, he likes the idea of being Barry’s “alpha wolf” - the protector of the protector of Central City.

The more nights Len spent at Barry’s apartment, the more he realized how insanely protected Barry already was. Barry had monitors and micro-cameras in place that connected him to S.T.A.R. Labs, to Cisco and Caitlin 24/7; alarm systems that would bring most of CCPD to his door if they went off (Joe’s idea, Len was sure); and motion sensor activated klaxon deterrent systems where, without the correct combination of key codes and passwords entered within the space of thirty seconds, a person couldn’t sneeze in the hallway outside Barry’s apartment without bringing law enforcement from all over straight to his home.

Those protocols should have been a huge red flag for Len; kept him a mile away from Barry’s place. But not because he was afraid of getting caught. Barry swore that he wouldn’t let that happen … not unless Len did something that forced his hand. All that security started to give Len an illusion of safety. That as long as he was in Barry’s apartment, nothing could touch him. For the first time in his life, he knew what an honest-to-God, good night’s sleep actually felt like, and he couldn’t make that a habit.

Len tried to avoid sleeping at Barry’s place for a while. He didn’t want to get spoiled and lose his edge. But being with Barry, as well as his stint on the Waverider, had started leading Len to believe that maybe he didn’t have to be a criminal forever. He could join the private sector, live a quiet life, have a house, and a car he didn’t choose because it was relatively indistinguishable, could survive a head on collision, could be stripped down for parts in an emergency, and wouldn’t be readily missed.

He began to see himself settling down, starting a new life with someone who got him, who accepted him for who he was, the good and the bad, and loved him regardless.

Someone like Barry.

He has those visions when he’s asleep in Barry’s arms more than anywhere else.

But if Len could stop being a criminal, could Barry stop being a superhero? One is just as dangerous, just as morally ambiguous, and just as difficult to live with as the other.

He starts thinking about that now for some reason - the future, that is - as something soft whispers past his temple. Assuming it’s an insect, he raises a hand to brush it away, but it’s a persistent motherfucker, returning to the same spot and settling there. It’s joined by something strong and warm snaking around his midsection. It slowly tightens, which gives Len a jolt.

Not because it worries him at all, but because he likes it.

It’s not until the fluttery-tickly-feathery thing camped out on his forehead starts trailing down his neck that he begins to come to his senses and realize what exactly is attempting, in the most subtly seductive way possible, to wake him from his sleep.

And Len laughs out loud.

“What the hell are you doin’, Barry?” he slurs.

“I knew that your alarm was going to go off soon,” Barry explains, trying not to sound too insulted by Len’s laughing, “so I thought maybe we could, you know, fool around before you had to go and do _whatever_ it is you’re doing today.”

Barry’s emphasis and subsequent silence begs Len to give him the 4-1-1 on what’s going down ... and maybe offer him the opportunity to change his mind.

Len’s sleepy chuckle tells him succinctly that Barry doesn’t want to know, and that Len has no intention of telling him anyway.

Len feels Barry roll away from him with a heavy sigh, ready to go back to sleep for the remaining hour before their night together ends, and makes a grab for his arm.

“Wha--- who told you to stop, Allen?”

“I thought that was the whole point of you asking me what the hell I was doing,” Barry grumbles.

“Yeah, I was asking, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to stop,” Len mutters, tugging Barry back over.

“Really?” Barry asks, mildly hopeful that if he can keep Len distracted, he might change his mind about his plans for the afternoon.

 _Fat chance_ , Len thinks, knowing Barry’s motives. But he can’t blame Barry for trying. It’s one of the reasons why he loves his boyfriend so God dammed much.

“Really,” Len says. “So, keep going. Just, you know, aim lower.”


	5. Warm My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len gets jealous when he gets out of the shower and catches his boyfriend on the phone with "Julian from work". 
> 
> (This installment is rated M for cockwarming and anal entry)

_Bzzz-bzzz_. _Bzzz-bzzz_.

Barry, on his way to the bathroom, sees his phone vibrate across his desk. He’s tempted to leave it, just pretend that he didn’t hear it. This is Len’s first night back, and he’s dying to join his man in the shower. Len doesn’t take long showers, but maybe, with the right persuasion, they could make-out under the spray till the water turns cold.

And then they could make out a little more, with Len’s body pinning Barry to the tile, keeping him warm.

When the phone buzzes again, Barry checks the number, solely for the sake of morbid curiosity, and curses.

“Julian Albert! _Fuck_!” Now he _has_ to answer it. Barry has only recently gotten on the man’s good side. Captain has been riding their ass on a new case this week. All Barry needs is to foul up something important and turn Julian against him again. But Barry thought he had gotten everything ironed out. He doesn’t see Julian calling him after hours unless Barry overlooked a major detail.

With a mournful glance at the bathroom door, he answers the call, putting it on speakerphone.

“Hey, Julian. What’s up?” he says quickly, hoping to strike a hurried tone and move things along. “

“Hey, Allen,” Julian answers. The man blows out a long sigh. _Ugh_. Barry cringes. _Not a good sign_. Barry can hear Julian’s frustration. He foresees some venting, as well as a couple of longwinded explanations, and he immediately wishes he could go back in time and make the wiser decision not to answer the call. _I could do that_ , he thinks. _I’m_ _The Flash_. “Do you have the DNA results we re-ran yesterday? I’m trying to locate them. I thought I left them here on my desk, but I’ve torn through everything about a dozen times and nothing. I can only assume they got mixed up with the files I saw you take when you left.”

“Uh … hold on.” Barry can’t see how he could have taken them. He was very thorough and specific about the files he took home. But if he doesn’t look and it turns out he has them, he’ll never live it down. Not from Julian _or_ the Captain.

Barry hears the shower turn off, and he internally screams, _Nooooo!_ But he reminds himself that he’s protecting the sanctity of his daily working environment, which has finally returned to some semblance of normalcy. He spends roughly from eight a.m. to six p.m. with this man, some days longer. He doesn’t need the stress of a hostile co-worker breathing down his neck every five seconds.

Barry’s mind drifts to thoughts of Len in the shower, lathering up and probably getting hard - not on purpose, but as a consequence of being warm and relaxed and touching himself.

His attention shifts back to Julian rambling about the long three hours of overtime he’s already spent searching for these files, and though Barry can definitely sympathize, he decides: _Yeah, this is so not worth it._

“I don’t see them,” Barry says, scouring the piles on his desk, “but I’ll keep looking. And if I come across them, I’ll let you know ASAP.”

“Thanks,” Julian says, sounding suddenly distracted. “Hey, what are you up to tonight? You wanna go out for a round? My treat.”

Barry smiles. And with that crisis averted, all is right in Barry’s world for another day. “That sounds great, but I have to take a raincheck.”

“What? You’ve got a hot date or something?” Julian teases. It’s not the sarcastic jeering Barry had to endure when they first met, and Barry’s glad about that. Julian doesn’t have to be Barry’s _best_ friend, but his hating him less is a nice change.

“Actually, yeah, I do. My boyfriend’s in town, so I’m gonna spend some time with him before has to hit the road again.”

“Ah. A traveling man. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Barry agrees wistfully. “It is.”

“Well, have a good time then, mate, and I’ll definitely be taking you up on that rain check as soon as you have an evening free.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Bye.”

“Bye now.”

“So … who’s the Brit?” Len asks, tightening the knot in his towel over his hip bone. He asks the question the second the phone call disconnects which leads Barry to wonder how much of it he heard.

“Which Brit?” Barry kids, shuffling through folders and thumbing through pages.

“The guy you were talking to on speakerphone,” Len stresses as he walks up to Barry, less than amused.

Barry’s eyes flick up. “Oh, him?” he asks, stringing Len along, pretending to concentrate on organizing his case files instead of the man standing in front of him wearing only a towel around his waist. It’s not easy considering the fact that just about the only thing Barry has wanted to do since Len got home is tear off his clothes and get down on his knees for him. But butting heads with Len’s jealous side is too much fun to resist. “That’s Julian. From work.”

“And how come this is the first time I’m hearing about _Julian from work_?”

“Because you’ve only been home a grand total of an hour. The subject didn’t come up.”

“Mm-hmm. And does Julian have a last name?”

“Not for you he doesn’t,” Barry sidesteps, knowing how dangerous giving Len information can be.

“And what is your relationship with this _Julian_?”

“Relationship?” Barry chuckles. “There’s no relationship. He’s, you know … he’s, uh …” Barry shakes his head as he tries to find an appropriate place to start that’ll get Len up to speed, all the while taunted by the water droplets clinging to Len’s skin that Barry is dying to lick up. He notices one on Len’s shoulder break free and roll down his front, stopping on his collarbone for a second before it continues on its way, and he subconsciously licks his lips. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated, huh?” Len half-smiles as he watches Barry chew his lower lip, eyes looking everywhere but Len’s face now. “I’ve had a few complicated acquaintances in my life. I don’t go out drinking with them.”

“Uh, I beg to differ. You forget, I’ve met Mick.”

Len tilts his head in thought. “Touché. But, you know …” Len winds his fingers possessively into the belt loops of Barry’s jeans “… you and I have a kind of complicated relationship, and we do _way_ more than go out for drinks.”

“We do?” Barry asks, sincerely confused. His eyes journey back to Len’s face, eager to have his fill of him before he has to leave again – not tonight, thank God, but still much too soon. “Have a complicated relationship, I mean?”

“What?” Len starts slowly unbuttoning Barry’s shirt. “You don’t think so?”

“Well, I suppose” - Barry pops the buttons on his jeans in order to catch up - “but _you_ always seemed so simple to me.”

“And how’s that?”

“I always thought of you like a stray that needed to come in from the cold …”

“A stray?” Len says with a snort.

“An angry, obnoxious stray,” Barry specifies, “that likes to hump my leg a lot and mark my furniture.”

“You know what _else_ is getting cold?” Len asks, circling the conversation back around to get Barry back on task. He drops his towel with one hand as he undoes Barry’s last button with his other. Barry feels Len’s cock, without his towel plastering it to his body, spring hard against his leg. That, along with Len’s effortless display of ambidextrousness, makes Barry shiver.

“Impressive.” Barry mulls over Len’s mischievous grin. “Maybe I can warm that up for you?”

“Or perhaps, _I_ can warm _you_ up … and you can hold me?”

Barry raises an eyebrow. That’s an unusual request for Len, and Barry wonders if there’s something that Len’s not telling him. They swore no secrets, so he has to take Len at face value. But still … “You want to?”

Len shrugs. “Why not? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has.”

“Let’s go then.” Len takes Barry’s hand and walks him to the bedroom. It’s a total turn-on that Len knows his way around Barry’s apartment with his back turned. He even manages to step over Barry’s sneakers, sitting to the left of the doorway, in enough time to avoid tripping over them and landing on his ass. Len is aggressive in his need to have Barry, showing thru the dark look in his eyes; assured of his absolute _right_ to have him, regardless of the divide between them – contrasting jobs and time separated conflicting with an unsure future and the knowledge that what might come up in the next hour or the next day could tear them both apart. But they don’t need to worry about that here in Barry’s bedroom, in Barry’s _bed_ ; not when Len lies down and rolls on his side, motioning for Barry to slide behind him.

Barry kicks off his pants, tosses off his shirt, and does what Len wants. He winds a leg between Len’s and sends his hands searching for his boyfriend’s entrance. It’s been quite some time since he’s been inside Leonard Snart. He wants to relish it. Barry grabs his bottle of lube from underneath his pillow, figuring this will be slow going, opening Len up, getting him prepared. But he sucks in a breath when his fingers find a gaping hole and slip right in.

“Jesus Christ,” Barry groans, shakily rushing to lube up and replace his fingers with the head of his cock, “were you fingering yourself in the shower?”

“I _was_ waiting for _you_ , but you were too busy flirting with that British guy.”

“Don’t even. He doesn’t hold a candle to you,” Barry says with a gasp as he slides into Len’s body, stopping when his pelvis hits Len’s ass. Barry shudders, winding trembling arms around Len’s shoulders, and Len covers Barry’s hands with his.

“Now, how does that feel?” Len asks casually, as if they’re sitting at the dinner table talking about the weather and not with Barry balls deep in his ass. “Better?”

“God, you feel _amazing_ ,” Barry replies, hugging him tight. “H-how long do you think you can last this way?” he teases, certain that, in their current position, with the head of his cock resting close to Len’s prostate, he has the upper hand.

Even if his boyfriend _is_ hotter and tighter than anything he’s ever felt in his life. An echo of his pulse throbs against Barry’s cock, a relentless torture in this test of wills, like a gentle kiss, urging him to move.

Len grins. He shimmies back against Barry, pulling a moan from his boyfriend’s throat that’s sweet, but also sin. “Why don’t we find out?”


End file.
